


About Wiccan

by quadrotriticale



Category: Marvel, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, POV Teddy Altman, Q slur, i love these boys with my whole soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 08:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15166307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quadrotriticale/pseuds/quadrotriticale
Summary: You kiss him for the first time when the team’s just getting started, in full costume after a 'mission' in the middle of the night, high on adrenaline and summer heat and the flush in his cheeks, the way he stared at your lips and the anticipation doing flip flops in your gut.





	About Wiccan

**Author's Note:**

> this is the only good thing i have ever written  
> the most important thing in my life is lgbt superheroes i will have them pried from my cold dead fucking hands

He’s… strange, you think that’s the first thing you notice about him. There’s nothing about the way that he looks that you find off, you can’t really place your finger on what it is or why you think it, but something about him is strange, something about him is a little bit off. He smiles at you when he catches you looking a little too long, the kind of smile people give to acknowledge that they’re being stared at, the kind of smile that asks “why are you staring at me, dude, why are you being creepy,” so you turn your eyes down to the ground quickly, pretend that you weren’t staring, for whatever use that’ll do you. 

His name is Billy, or, you guess, William, but he tells you to call him Billy, and you like that. (“Billy what?” you ask, and he tells you, “Billy Kaplan,” and you say, “Alright, Billy Kaplan, it’s nice to meet you,” and he says, “It’s nice to meet you too, Teddy Altman.” You think that might have been flirting, but you don’t know. You’re new at flirting, especially with boys.)

You think he’s cute, he asks you about your piercings, about the kind of music you like, babbles on and on in way that you find endearing about what he likes, and you think you could listen to him talk for hours, no matter what he told you about. You love the sound of his voice- even if you aren’t really listening to his words, it’s nice to your ears. (You like the color of his eyes too, the pout of his lips and the way that his hair curls when it starts to grow out. You like the faint freckles on his cheeks, you’re sure they’d be dark if he spent more time outside, and you like the flecks of green in his otherwise brown irises. You like everything about him, you think. He puts butterflies in your stomach, and you don’t know what you’re supposed to do with that, but you're trying to figure it out.)

He doesn’t seem to mind that you’re green sometimes, doesn’t seem to mind that you don’t seem totally human (you only later find out that you’re not, but that isn’t relevant now, that isn’t known to you, it doesn’t matter now and it doesn't matter to him then, either). He confides in you that he’s not himself, shows you the little things that he can do with… magic, or whatever it is, shows you that he’s different too, when his power decides it wants to cooperate. 

(He’s not like you, but he is, and if you didn’t love him before, you do now. You find some ridiculous, sappy, heart melting beauty in all the things he can do, some kind of chickflick gooey shit that you wish you could tell him, but have difficulty getting out of your mouth. It's alright, though.)

It’s sort of by accident that you make other friends like you, that you decide, in your youthful naivety, in the height of your hero worship, that you want to make an “avengers” team too, even if you’re just kids, even if the oldest of you only just turned sixteen, even though you don’t really understand that avengers die, that this is dangerous, that you’re going to get hurt. It just seems fun, when you’re that young. You just want to be like your heroes. 

Billy goes by Asgardian, for a while. He gets good at lightning, but you know that’s not his power, you know that the extent of what he can do is _so much more_ than lightning, and that it's so much more impressive than anything he does to mimic Thor. It’s hero worship, and you know it, but you don’t really care. It’s fun- that’s the whole point. You parade around the city in costume just to rough up a couple drug store thieves because you’re kids and you think that’s what fighting crime is, you’re too small, you don’t understand in depth how awful the world you live in can be, you don't understand, in the beginning, just what danger there is out there waiting for you to find it. You do understand though, later.

You don’t like to talk about the details around what happened, you don’t like to talk about Kang, you don’t like to talk about Nate and Eli, you don’t like to talk about any of that, but Billy changes his title to Wiccan and you’re too deep in it now to turn back, you’ve made too many enemies and broken too many things and you’ve lost something, you guess, you wouldn’t have started this if you’d known what was going to happen.

The only good thing, as far as you’re concerned, that comes out of your stupid ‘avengers’ team, is Billy. You kiss him for the first time when the team’s just getting started, in full costume after a 'mission' in the middle of the night, high on adrenaline and summer heat and the flush in his cheeks, the way he stared at your lips and the anticipation doing flip flops in your gut. You take him on your first date in those early days too, in a booth in the back of some grimy pizza parlor your teenaged selves only barely had enough money for. You remember the first time you held his hand in public, you remember telling the team and getting used to the fact that this wasn’t going to be easy, but it was something good, and it was worth it and you were going to do it whether anyone agreed with it or not. 

Billy smiles at you and your heart squeezes in your chest because you love him, you adore him, you’re going to marry him and you’re going to build a life with him and you’re going to be queer and uncensored because you’re a superhero now and you’re not going to hide your boyfriend from cameras, you’re not going to forego holding his hand just because someone who might want to meet you is bothered by love. You ruined your life with this, this team and everything that came with it, you think you might as well take the one good thing it gave you and be proud of it, proud of who you are and who you love and what that means.

(You do marry him, one day, when you’re older. The ceremony isn’t extravagant, isn’t huge, you say your vows in a rented tux in a tiny office and you both cry, and he kisses you without any of the shyness of the first time, but with all the stupid, ridiculous, overwhelming love that you remember, and you’re okay.)

(You think, if you could go back and do things differently, you wouldn’t. Every decision you ever made in your life led you to him, you think, every good one and every bad one and every mistake you’ve ever made led you, in some way, to him.)

(And you’re alright with that.)


End file.
